My #1 motivation to lose weight has been a shallow one. I want to look good at my brother’s wedding, which is next September. This hasn’t been, apparently, enough to really kick me into gear. I’ve been on Weight Watchers for ten thousand years more than a couple of months, and I’ve only managed to lose a pound. That’s one. One stinkin’ pound.

Today, I found myself up against a new, more immediate motivation. A friend and I have been toying with the idea of taking a ballroom dancing class, and we were going to “observe” a session this evening. The woman at the dance studio told me that we didn’t need to wear ball gowns but that we should wear nice slacks. Definitely not jeans.

Now, I haven’t gone the way of the sweatpant. But I’ll admit that I don’t do a whole lot to gussy myself up every day. I do have some slacks in the closet, but I haven’t worn them in a good long while. And this afternoon? I discovered that none of them fit.

I called my friend to tell her I needed to lose 15 pounds or buy new pants before I could hit the dance floor, and she sounded relieved. She was headed to her closet when I talked to her. She has a 3-month-old, and she was worried she wasn’t going to fit into the pre-pregnancy clothes.

Me? I’ve gained 10 pounds since having Pete. I can’t fit into my post-pregnancy clothes. This is not good. I need to back away from the desserts. Because I can’t afford a new wardrobe.